


The Good Part of the Zombie Apocalypse

by callay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Guns, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Smut, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callay/pseuds/callay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz, alone in a world overrun by zombies, meets an incredibly handsome mechanic. After that, things aren't quite so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Part of the Zombie Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/gifts).



> Happy holidays, plinys! I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I needed all the support and help I could get on this thing. Thank you so much to [knucklewhite](http://www.knucklewhite.tumblr.com) and [teawithmrpond](http://www.teawithmrpond.tumblr.com), but especially to [thisiswherethefishlives](http://www.thisiswherethefishlives.tumblr.com), this fic's fairy godmother.

Fitz does his best not to think about the bad parts. Good parts are few and far between when flesh-eating zombies have taken over the world, but Fitz makes it his goal to find them and focus on them. It’s the only way he can survive.

It doesn’t seem like much of a good part when he is awoken in the middle of the night by someone bursting into his room.

It’s not _his_ room exactly, just one in a series of long-abandoned bedrooms he’s been holing up in, and it’s very dark. Fitz can’t even see what’s going on when he first opens his eyes, he just knows that something broke through the lock on the door and is in the room.

In the faint glow of moonlight, it’s a huge shape, rushing towards him, and Fitz is sitting up, reaching for his gun, but the intruder’s already on him.

The thing barrels into him, knocking him back, and Fitz lets out a yelp of pure helpless terror, expecting teeth ripping into him any moment.

“ _Shit_!” gasps the thing, which is a person, and that’s good, but he’s still half on top of Fitz and Fitz is still panicking and trying to shove him away.

“Get off!” says Fitz, pushing hard against the man, who’s extremely big and solid.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was someone here,” says the man, finally managing to climb over Fitz and onto the floor behind the bed.

“What – what are you doing here?” says Fitz, voice still high and panicked.

“Getting away from those!” says the man, low, and Fitz sees another silhouette in the doorway.

It shuffles toward the bed with an awkward, lopsided gait, and Fitz doesn't need to see more to know it’s a zombie.

Fitz grabs for his gun, heart pounding, nerves alight. 

The zombie’s coming closer, much more slowly than the man had lunged in, but with a deadly inevitability. Beyond the growling sound it’s making, Fitz thinks he can hear more shuffling footsteps on the stairs, in the hall.

Fuck.

He doesn’t think about the brief weapons training he got from SHIELD, he doesn't take a deep breath and try to still his shaking hands, he just holds the pistol with both hands and fires.

The bullet thunks into the wall somewhere behind the zombie, which keeps coming, utterly unconcerned by Fitz’s attempt to kill it.

 _Fuck_.

“Give me the gun,” says the man from behind Fitz.

“No!” says Fitz instinctively, squeezing the grip of the gun. It’s the only thing between him and the zombie, and handing it over to a stranger is unthinkable.

He fires again, and he _thinks_ by the way the zombie lurches that he grazed its shoulder, but that doesn’t stop it in the slightest. A second zombie has followed it through the doorway.

“I’m a good shot,” says the man. He’s talking quickly and urgently, but there’s something calming about his deep voice. “I can get rid of these creeps and we’ll both walk out of here.”

Fitz hesitates. His hands are shaking so badly the gun is jumping in the air. But he can’t give his only weapon to some random stranger – the very person who broke down his defenses – a person who could easily turn around and murder him after the zombies!

But Fitz can’t be debating this, can’t be _thinking_ because the zombie’s very close and he has to _do something_ –

“Okay, Ace, hold on,” says the man, and then all of a sudden he’s right behind Fitz, wrapping his arms around him to curl his hands over Fitz’s on the gun. His hands are warm, and the strength of him feels nice against Fitz’s back, and he holds Fitz’s hands steady and says, “Fire,” so Fitz does.

The first zombie drops.

The situation is just starting to catch up to Fitz and he shouldn’t be okay with this, but the man’s presence, the incredibly calm way he guides Fitz’s hands, is somehow comforting. His chin is over Fitz’s shoulder and Fitz can feel his jaw moving when he says, “Fire,” again, low.

Fitz does and watches with a strange sense of calm as the second zombie collapses.

There’s another just coming through the door, but between the two of them it’s a simple matter to shoot it right in the head.

Then there’s silence.

“I think that’s all of them,” says the man. He pulls away, clapping Fitz on the shoulder once before skirting the bed and moving cautiously toward the door. Fitz can hear him breathing hard, but even in the darkness Fitz can see that there’s a steadiness to the way he moves.

Fitz is not even close to as calm as the man seems. His heart is jumping in his throat and he has to set down the gun and clench his hands into fists to stop their nervous twitching. He’s almost used to the exhilaration of fear and relief that comes after facing zombies, but now it’s heightened by an unprecedented element of uncertainty. 

The man steps back into the room. “There were only these three following me, and I don’t see or hear anything else. I think we’re in the clear, Ace.”

“My name’s Fitz,” blurts out Fitz, as if there aren’t a dozen other more pressing topics of conversation.

“Fitz, huh? I’m Mack,” says the man. He steps forward, and in the dark it takes Fitz a moment to realize he’s holding out his hand.

Fitz reaches out. Their hands find each other and they shake, like two normal people in a normal world not overrun with zombies.

Mack’s hand is big and hot and his grip is firm and Fitz can’t believe how much he likes him already.

He shouldn’t like him. In this new, dangerous world, even friends can’t be trusted, and Mack is a total stranger. Fitz can’t even see his face. It’s just a suggestion in the moonlight, a rectangle of dark skin and scruffy black hair and beard.

But Fitz can’t help it. There’s a sense of security in the broad shoulders of Mack’s silhouette, and there’s calm in his deep, even voice.

And Mack did save his life, thinks Fitz, it makes sense to be grateful.

Except that Mack is the one who endangered him in the first place.

After a long pause during which Fitz hesitates, conflicted, Mack speaks again. “Look, Fitz, I’m really sorry about busting in here. I was looking for a hiding place, maybe something I could use as a weapon. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“That was kind of the point,” says Fitz.

Mack dips his head. “Uh, yeah. Well, I think the lock on this door is broken, are you going to be okay?”

“Yes,” says Fitz, feeling confused and awkward. “I was going to – to head out at daybreak anyway.”

“Okay, good. Well, I’ll leave you be. Best of luck, Ace.” Mack’s voice is friendly, but there’s a weary cast to his shoulders as he turns towards the door.

“Wait!” says Fitz before he can stop himself.

Mack turns. “Yeah?”

“Are – are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll manage,” says Mack, just as evenly as ever.

Fitz finds that he hates the idea of never seeing Mack again.

Of course, he can barely even see him in the first place. But that’s, somehow, beside the point.

There’s a pause.

“Why, you want to team up?” asks Mack.

Fitz’s heart almost skips a beat at the idea. He immediately imagines how it would feel to have someone there to watch his back. Someone strong and tough and calm.

No, he should be rational about it, he thinks, flexing his hand. Mack is a complete unknown. 

But they just killed three zombies together in the middle of the night. It’s hard not to feel connected to him.

“Yes,” says Fitz.

***

It’s only a few hours before pink light starts to peek out from behind the hills in the distance. Fitz, looking out the window, watches as the dark shapes in the street resolve into a row of suburban houses.

In the warm light the neighborhood almost looks normal, like any moment the inhabitants will start leaving for work. But everyone who lived here is gone. There’s nothing moving.

Except – there, shuffling their way through an overgrown lawn. Two zombies.

Fitz looks away. He knows they’re there, it shouldn’t be hard to avoid them. He doesn’t need to see any more details.

It’s getting light, he should head out. _They_ should head out, he corrects himself. Mack is still asleep on the bed behind him, snoring lightly.

Last night, Fitz had explained to Mack – not _everything_ , but that Fitz worked for SHIELD, and now he’s headed towards the Triskelion, hoping that the SHIELD base will be full of agents working on a cure.

Mack had readily agreed to travel with him. “If there’s one place that’ll have answers to this whole zombie thing, it’ll be Washington,” he’d said. “Or at the least, there’ll be some kind of high-security government bunker we can relax in, right?”

Fitz could hear the weariness in his tone, the wistfulness at the idea of sanctuary. He’d offered to keep watch while Mack got a few hours’ sleep, and Mack had immediately agreed.

Fitz had been surprised at that. He still is, really. Mack fell asleep so easily, trusting Fitz to watch his back.

Fitz isn’t sure if that makes Mack more trustworthy or more suspicious. His gut is telling him trustworthy, but he refuses to make up his mind yet. He barely knows anything about Mack.

Fitz turns around. In the early-morning light, he can see Mack clearly for the first time.

He tries to stop the flip his stomach does at the sight, but it’s no good, because Mack is incredibly handsome.

His clothes are a little dirty and his hair and beard look like they need a trim, but that takes nothing away from his gorgeousness. His face is symmetric and perfectly proportioned, all strong forehead and long, straight nose and his mouth – Fitz’s eyes catch for a moment on his mouth, lips full and soft, parted invitingly as Mack sleeps.

Fitz bites down hard on the inside of his cheek and drags his eyes away from Mack’s lips and pretends he didn’t just think about kissing someone he doesn’t even know.

But when he moves his eyes, they somehow end up on Mack’s body. Fitz got a good sense of it in the dark, his height and the breadth of his shoulders, the solidity of his chest against Fitz’s back. But it’s still different to actually see the pure strength of him. Mack’s jacket and flannel shirt are open and the t-shirt he’s wearing is tight enough that Fitz can make out the broad flat shape of his chest and the hard muscles of his stomach, rising and falling with Mack’s deep breaths.

Fitz turns away again, heart pounding.

He presses his forehead to the window and tries to be reasonable. So Mack’s handsome. The man who pressed close against him and held his hands and is now sleeping in the very bed Fitz had been in – he’s incredibly gorgeous. But that doesn’t have to change anything.

Fitz can act normal, and they can work together to not die, and it will be fine, he thinks resolutely.

He definitely won’t let his guard down. Being handsome is no guarantee of being trustworthy, he thinks, hand twitching at his side.

The sound of movement from the bed interrupts his thoughts. Fitz freezes, staring out the window.

“Hey, Fitz,” says Mack slowly.

“Hey,” says Fitz.

“You’re still here,” says Mack, sounding pleased.

Fitz is surprised at the comment. “Of course I am,” he says, turning around. “Aren’t we teaming up?”

“Yeah –“ says Mack, and then he pauses for a moment. His eyes move over Fitz’s face and Fitz feels himself blushing at the thought that this is the first time Mack is seeing him.

“Yeah,” repeats Mack, smiling.

And if Fitz lets his guard down just a little, he thinks, it’s not just because Mack’s handsome. It’s everything about him, the calm way he helped Fitz last night, how easily he put his life in Fitz’s hands, and the look in his deep brown eyes as they meet Fitz’s, warm and kind.

Fitz can’t resist the feeling that teaming up with Mack is a very, very good thing.

***

They ransack the abandoned houses for supplies. Mack has almost nothing on him, so they’ll need more food than Fitz has in his backpack, and a weapon for Mack if they can find one.

“Why don’t you have any, any – uh – “ The word Fitz wants falls away.

“Any what?” says Mack. “Supplies?”

“Yeah, supplies,” says Fitz, relieved.

Mack looks at Fitz for a moment before answering. Fitz feels a sudden rush of embarrassment, and looks down, hand clenching at his side.

“Hey, Fitz, we’re a team now, right?”

“Yeah,” says Fitz, looking up in confusion.

“We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. So it doesn’t matter if it takes a moment to get the words out, because we have plenty of time.”

Mack’s words are a transparent attempt to make Fitz feel better, but somehow that fact does make Fitz feel a little better. He nods.

“As to the supplies,” continues Mack, “I had a great set-up before. Tools, food, weapons, everything you could think of. Course, I managed to not think of it on my way the hell out of there last night.”

“What happened?”

Mack turns away to poke through a drawer and shrugs. “I set up camp in the woods over on that hill, but a bunch of creeps showed up, so I ran away.”

“In the woods? But it’s so much better to stick to houses!”

“I don't know, I always think I’ll run into a whole family of creeps inside.”

Fitz shakes his head. “No, houses are much safer!” he says. “Most people evacuated before the plague reached here, so there usually aren’t any zombies inside. And once you close all the doors, you’re basically safe. Zombies aren’t so good with – with manual dexterity.”

“I don’t know,” says Mack. “They’re pretty strong, what if they break in? You’d be cornered.” He makes a face. “I felt I had to make a last stand last night, but I’d rather be out in the open and avoid all of that.”

“No, because there’s no reason for them to try to get in!” says Fitz, talking fast. He’s been thinking about this on his own for a long time and he’s eager to make Mack understand. “Zombies don’t usually look up! If you stay on the top floor and don’t make any noise, none of them will ever know you’re there!”

“All right there, Turbo, I believe you,” says Mack, looking amused at Fitz’s enthusiasm. “That does sound good. So long as no idiots bumble in with three creeps on their tail, right?”

Fitz smiles. “Exactly.”

***

They make their gradual way north towards DC, sticking to suburban areas where there are houses to sleep in and to raid for food. It turns out Mack is pretty much exactly the person to have by your side during the zombie apocalypse. He’s resourceful, good with his hands, calm under pressure – and he can fight, too.

Fitz’s supply of bullets is dwindling fast, so it makes sense for Mack to get in close to any zombies who cross their path and dispatch them, wielding a long hunting knife they found. He does it with a grimace, but also with a level of composure Fitz knows he could never manage that close to a zombie.

Fitz’s routine of hiding out in an abandoned house each night continues to work. The houses are usually empty of zombies, but Fitz and Mack still sweep every room for before settling in, just in case. Despite the low risk, Fitz’s heart still hammers with nerves as they do it. Mack’s always on high alert too, body tense, knife at the ready.

They do find zombies sometimes.

One house, they get through all the rooms, until there’s only one unopened door left, a bathroom off the master bedroom. Mack opens it casually and two zombies spill out, almost on top of him.

Mack yells in surprise, jumping back, but one of the zombies is already grabbing at him, clawing at his coat. “Mack!” squeaks Fitz, bringing his gun up. He tries to take a deep breath and aim, the way Mack’s been telling him, but Mack and the zombie are struggling and there’s no clear shot.

He’s focused so hard on that, he forgets the second zombie until it lurches directly into his line of vision. Apparently, it’s leaving Mack to its friend and coming for Fitz.

The zombie is all blank, beady eyes and rotting flesh and grinning yellow teeth, moving towards Fitz at a slow but urgent stagger. Fitz scrambles instinctively backwards. The corner of a dresser catches him in the back and he gasps, hands twitching around the grip of the gun.

“Fitz!” grunts Mack, and Fitz’s eyes dart off the zombie approaching him to look at the bathroom doorway. Mack is still locked with the other zombie, one arm holding its head away, the other struggling – Fitz can’t tell what’s going on exactly, only that Mack hasn’t stabbed the zombie yet, and its snapping jaws are pressing in closer and closer.

Fitz tries to take aim at that zombie, but the one near him is too close, grabbing hands reaching out for him.

Panicked, Fitz shoots at it. The bullet grazes the side of its head, but that’s not enough to stop it.

Lurching forward, it catches the sleeve of Fitz’s coat. Fitz yanks away, letting go of the gun with one hand to try to push the zombie’s hand off him, shuddering at the feeling of the cold, dry flesh.

“Mack!” Fitz cries out, and he doesn’t even know if he wants Mack to save him or if he still thinks he can save Mack, but he’s not sure either will happen.

“Hang on!” says Mack, and Fitz can just see the motion of him twisting out of the zombie’s grip and, in the same powerful movement, slamming it against the wall.

The other zombie lunges forward, and Fitz loses his balance and falls to the ground hard, the zombie half on top of him and trying to take a bite out of his arm –

And then Mack’s knife is buried in the zombie’s head, and it goes limp, and Mack shoves it off of Fitz.

“You okay?” asks Mack, looking down at Fitz, sprawled on the floor.

It takes Fitz a second to be sure. “Yes,” he says hoarsely. “Are you – oh –“

The other zombie lurches suddenly up behind Mack, reaching for him. Fear singing in his blood, Fitz picks up the gun and aims over Mack’s shoulder and shoots.

He hits it in the forehead and it drops, lifeless.

“Shit.” Mack looks down at the zombie. “Thanks, Fitz.”

Fitz scoots away from the zombie in front of him to lean back against the dresser, heart skittering in his chest. “I’m sorry, I should have been ready, I tried to shoot your zombie earlier but I couldn’t –“

Mack cuts off Fitz’s babbling. “That doesn’t matter, we’re fine,” he says, voice deep and even. “I should have been more careful – but at least I’ve got you to watch my back.”

Mack steps over the zombie and sits down next to Fitz. The room around them is still. Mack turns to Fitz, smiling. “Seriously, Ace, the way you shot that one that was creeping up on me was so cool. Like it was nothing.”

Fitz lets out a breathless half-laugh, feeling a little of the tension ease out of him. “I – I don’t know.”

“All I’m saying is, you seem better than you did before. You’re really leveling up here.”

Fitz can’t help smiling a little. Mack’s words feel good, warm and solid in his heart. Maybe he is getting better.

If he is, it’s because of Mack – Mack helping him, and believing in him. They’ve only been together a short time, but already Mack makes him want to get better, to do better. He has to. Surviving isn’t his only goal anymore. Mack has to survive as well.

Fitz doesn’t know what he would do if he were left alone again.

Quickly he turns away from that train of thought.

“You still had to save me from that one,” he points out to Mack.

Mack sighs. “Yeah, and that was close! I should have been able to handle them, I just let the first one get too close, and it was pinning my arm. You were almost zombie chow.”

He says the last part with a grin on his face, and Fitz shakes his head, smiling. “I don’t know, I still think you’re strangely good at hand-to-hand combat for a mechanic.”

He means it as a joke, but he catches a serious look on Mack’s face.

“Are you not a, a mechanic?” asks Fitz suspiciously.

Mack shrugs. “No, I am. I was just also working with this mercenary group.”

“A mercenary group?”

“Yeah, we’d find people, acquire objects... I was mostly there to do vehicles and weapons and stuff, but I had to fight sometimes, too.”

Fitz doesn’t know how to react. He always thought he had led the adventurous life, being part of SHIELD, and Mack was just – normal. In a way, this explains a lot.

But he’s a little surprised Mack kept it a secret this long.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you, Fitz, I just – “ Mack takes a slow breath, but when he continues, his voice is steady. “They died right before I met you. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” says Fitz, heart constricting. He thinks of the Mack he met in the dark that night. Calm and competent, but somehow weary underneath. Alone without allies or supplies. “That’s… I’m sorry.”

Mack shakes his head. “It’s the zombie apocalypse, Turbo, we’ve all lost people.”

“Yeah,” says Fitz, feeling the muscles of his hand twitch.

There’s a short pause. Words build up inside Fitz, cold and dreadful, and he doesn’t let them out.

“I try to only remember the good parts,” he says instead.

“Okay,” says Mack. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense.”

Fitz nods.

Mack moves suddenly, and Fitz looks up. Mack is reaching an arm out to wrap around Fitz’s shoulder.

Fitz lets him, leaning in to Mack’s side, feeling Mack’s arm settle heavy over his shoulders. Mack is warm and solid against him.

“Don’t worry,” Mack says quietly. “We’ll make sure there are plenty of good parts from now on.”

***

It’s surprisingly easy to find good parts with Mack. Their life is still hard, a constant struggle with zombies and with finding what they need to survive. But they manage to talk and laugh as they do it.

Early on, Fitz had hoped his initial desperate crush on Mack would fade as they got to know each other, but no such luck.

Mack is easy to talk to, and has a knack for telling stories with a subtle kind of humor that makes Fitz laugh. He’s willing to listen to all of Fitz’s crazy ideas for jerry-rigging post-apocalyptic gadgets, and he’s smart enough to follow Fitz’s winding explanations, and he has the common sense to tell him it would never work. He’s patient when Fitz struggles to get words out but also encouraging, pushing Fitz to keep trying to get better.

And Fitz feels so much safer with Mack around, taking on challenges with a steady calm that makes everything seem a little less hopeless. 

Slowly, Fitz accumulates happy moments with Mack, bright memories amid the tension and gloom.

He can already tell things are looking up when they find an untouched Walmart. Most stores they check have already been ransacked by survivors, but this was locked up so tight that nobody’s gotten at it. 

Mack forces open a side door and they enter the store, cavernous and dim with only the sun from the windows to light it. They sweep carefully through the dusty aisles, listening for any sign of movement in the heavy silence.

But there’s no sign of life, human or undead.

When they reach the far corner without incident, Mack turns to Fitz, grinning. “I think we hit the jackpot,” he says.

And suddenly the ominous feeling of the store dissipates, and Fitz is excited again, because Mack is right – they should be able to find everything they need here. Canned food, bottled water, supplies, new clothes, weapons.

It’s still November, but it feels like Christmas as they traverse the store, loading up on as much stuff as they can carry.

Mack stops suddenly in the pharmacy section. He turns to Fitz, running a speculative hand over his beard. “I don’t know about you, Fitz, but I need a shave.”

They collect all the equipment they could need – scissors, the fanciest multi-blade razors they could find, shaving cream, hand towels, bottled water – and adjourn to the accessories section, which has mirrors.

“Okay, Fitz, let’s do this.”

“You go first,” says Fitz quickly.

“Sure,” says Mack. Turning to the mirror, he works quickly, trimming his hair and beard and then lathering up.

“Are you going to shave your head?” asks Fitz curiously.

“Yep,” says Mack. “I’m not usually this much of a mess, you know.”

“You’re not a mess,” says Fitz automatically, and then blushes – but Mack just smiles at him and turns to the mirror to start shaving.

Fitz watches as Mack makes quick work of his beard and hair. Mack’s hands move deftly, tracking over the back of his head to make sure he gets all the hair.

Finally Mack turns around to face Fitz. “All right, Turbo, how do I look?”

Fitz can’t answer for a moment. If he thought Mack was breathtaking before, he doesn’t know what to call this. Without any hair, the perfect proportions of his face are even more obvious – especially his jaw line, strong and striking. He left a small rectangular beard framing his mouth, a style that somehow makes him look even more masculine.

Mack brings a hand to the beard. “It’ll just grow out again, but I like it.”

“It’s good,” says Fitz faintly.

And then he bites his lip at how weird that sounded, but Mack just grins. “Thanks. Well, you’re up, Ace.”

Fitz hesitates. As much as he would like to get rid of the fuzz covering his chin, after his disastrous last attempt, he had resigned myself to growing a beard. “Last time I shaved, I cut myself,” he tells Mack, holding up his unsteady hands as demonstration.

“I’ll do it, then,” says Mack.

Fitz’s heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” says Mack. “Hop up on the counter here.” Fitz does and Mack draws close, practically between his knees.

Fitz wonders if he’s making a colossal mistake.

“Hold still,” says Mack, so Fitz holds still. And then Mack’s hands are on his face, gentle but sure. They spread shaving cream over Fitz’s cheeks and neck, soft and fluffy against his skin, and then Mack picks up the razor. Starting with the side of Fitz’s face, he moves in a steady rhythm: one stroke, a pause to clean the razor, and then another long stroke. His left hand rests on Fitz’s face, moving slightly to brace the skin as he shaves.

Fitz closes his eyes. He can feel Mack’s touch even more vividly like this.

The pressure of the razor is just right, effective but not uncomfortable, as Mack works his way across Fitz’s cheek. Fitz can’t help getting lost in the rhythm of it, can’t help the shivers that spread through him at the touch of Mack’s fingertips.

He never thought of shaving as – as anything before. It was just a necessary task. But a personal one, Fitz thinks. Maybe that’s why this feels so heart-poundingly intimate.

Mack puts his hand on Fitz’s face and gently tilts his head back, leaning in to shave under his jaw. Mack literally has a blade to his throat, thinks Fitz, and he feels a jolt of excitement. Not because he’s afraid – but because of the very fact he’s not afraid. 

Mack could be wielding a straight razor against his jugular and Fitz still wouldn’t have a moment’s qualm. The trust he feels for Mack sits firm in his heart like a sun-warmed stone.

Mack gently readjusts Fitz’s head to start working on the other side, humming quietly. Fitz keeps his eyes closed and feels the slide of the razor, and Mack’s hand pulling gently on his skin, and Mack’s presence close to him. He forces himself to take deep, even breaths, to keep as still as possible, but his heart is fluttering in his chest.

“Almost done,” says Mack, moving on to the area around Fitz’s mouth. Fitz shivers at the feeling of Mack’s fingers on his lips, warm and a little rough, as Mack carefully repositions him.

Finally Mack sets down the razor and wipes Fitz’s face with a towel. Fitz keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to lose this feeling, the tingles spreading from his skin through his body, the unfounded certainty he feels that his heart is beating in rhythm with Mack’s.

Then Mack’s hands are on him, sliding gently up his neck, under his jaw, tracing the smooth skin up to cup his face. “Hey, Fitz, I’m done,” says Mack quietly.

Fitz opens his eyes, and he wants to say something, but he can’t. Because Mack’s right there, leaning in close, and his hands are warm around Fitz’s face and his eyes are warm and deep. Without meaning to, Fitz glances at Mack’s mouth, and need explodes in him like a firework at how much he wants to kiss Mack.

There’s a long, frozen moment. 

And then there’s a huge crash from the other side of the store, where they had come in.

They both jump. Mack pulls away. “Damn it! Creeps won’t even let us relax for one afternoon.”

Fitz nods in what he hopes is a normal way. Now that the moment is over, a hot blush washes over him, like a river bursting through a dam. His heart is beating so loud he can barely hear Mack talking.

“I say we just cut out the back way. We don’t know how many zombies that is,” Mack is saying, calmly gathering up their things.

“Y- yeah,” says Fitz.

They make a quick retreat. For once Fitz tries not to think about the warm feeling sitting stubbornly in his heart. They need to focus on survival, not whatever just happened, or was about to happen.

***

Finding the Walmart was a stroke of good luck, because the weather is getting colder every day, and they need the extra layers of clothes.

After the good luck, maybe it’s only fair to have some bad luck, too. They run into a group of zombies on the road, and by now they work well enough together that the zombies aren’t much of a problem – except when Fitz takes a step back to get a better angle on a zombie sneaking up on Mack, and trips on something, and falls.

He slips off the side of the road and, with a yelp, rolls down a muddy bank into a little stream that runs alongside the road. It doesn’t hurt much, but the water is freezing and instantly soaks through all his layers to his skin.

By the time they find a place to stay for the night, and Mack checks it for zombies, Fitz is shivering so hard he thinks his bones are rattling. He peels off his wet clothes and changes into his spare t-shirt and underwear, which should feel better, but the air is still brutally cold against his skin.

“Stop pacing and get into bed,” Mack tells him.

“N-no, what if I have hypothermia,” says Fitz. “It’s better to keep active, keep the – the blood flowing –“

“You’ll be fine, you’ll warm up as soon as you’re under the blankets.”

So Fitz crawls into the bed in one of the bedrooms and curls up in a ball. Mack brings him another blanket from the other room and spreads it over him.

“How’s that?”

“Still – cold –“ says Fitz through chattering teeth.

“Okay, hang on,” says Mack. He walks around the bed and then suddenly he’s lifting the blanket and getting in next to Fitz.

Mack gets right up against Fitz, curling around him. He’s so warm that Fitz pushes back against him before he can think about it. Mack lays a heavy arm across Fitz, pinning him close.

Shivers are still running through Fitz, but now he can’t tell if they’re from the cold or the sudden feeling of Mack all around him.

“How’s that?” asks Mack, voice rumbling in Fitz’s ear.

It’s good. Even through their clothes, Mack feels warm and solid, chest against Fitz’s back, legs tucked up against Fitz’s, arm lying across Fitz’s waist.

It’s nice, Mack a comfortable presence against him, but Fitz isn’t relaxing. His heart is pounding, his face flushing hot. He can’t stop thinking about everywhere they’re touching.

This is not the time, he tells himself, and tries to calm down. He has little success. Mack rubs a hand over his arm and Fitz’s heart skips a beat.

“Hey, Fitz, you warming up or what?”

Fitz swallows and tries to act normal. “Yeah,” he says, and then he thinks that that might make Mack move away, so he amends, “K- kind of.”

“Okay,” says Mack, and he doesn’t stop rubbing Fitz’s arm, hand moving slowly down the length of it, where Fitz holds it curled in front of him, then back up to Fitz’s shoulder. Warmth spreads from Fitz’s arm through his whole body.

“We’ll keep an eye out for some sleeping bags to take with us,” says Mack. “Get ourselves set up nice and cozy at night from now on.” 

“This is cozy,” blurts Fitz before he can stop himself.

He catches his breath, a fresh blush heating his face. He didn’t mean to say it like that, didn’t mean to reveal just how much he likes this –

But Mack just says, “Yeah,” and Fitz can hear the smile in his voice.

Something eases in Fitz at that. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going on with them – whether that moment in Walmart was all in his addled head. But they’re okay for now, and that’s the most important thing.

“Still,” says Mack lightly, “The weather is getting colder. I don’t know if you can handle it.”

Fitz hears the teasing note in his voice and shakes his head against the pillow. “I can handle normal cold! You try getting soaked in icy water and see how _you_ handle it. You’re the one who’s never seen snow, after all.”

“I’ve seen snow!” says Mack, laughing. “Even Texas can have snowstorms. We had one a few years back. It shut down _everything_. It was nuts.“

“Okay, but –” starts Fitz, and then the idea hits him and he suddenly stops.

“Fitz? Everything okay?”

“I just – do you think they freeze?”

“Texans?”

“The zombies, Mack! I mean, they’re not alive, they don’t have much of a circulatory system or anything, I can’t imagine they’re very good at, at, uh – “

“At not freezing?” tries Mack.

“No, I mean, yes, but I was going to say, uh – homeostasis.”

“Ah.”

Fitz barrels onwards, excited. “But if that’s true, then when it gets cold enough, we won’t have to worry about them!”

“Well, Turbo, I don’t know much about zombie biology, but that makes sense to me,” says Mack. His voice is as deep and even as always, but Fitz can definitely hear the excitement in it.

Hope is swelling in Fitz’s heart, unfamiliar and amazing. He feels warm and safe in Mack’s arms and for a moment he lets himself imagine a world where they can relax. It’s a wonderful thought.

And then in some kind of Newtonian reaction to his moment of hope, doubt squeezes hard at his heart. “But, but we don’t know whether they’ll be all right in the cold,” he points out quietly. “They’re already a biological im- impossibility. We don’t know anything about them.”

Fitz feels Mack’s shrug in the movement of his chest and arm. “I don’t know, Fitz, we’ll have to see. But it doesn’t hurt to hope, right?”

“Yes, it’ll hurt – if we’re wrong and we have to deal with the cold and snow and zombies –“ says Fitz in a rush.

Mack wraps his arm around Fitz and squeezes. “No big deal. We’ll make snowmen out of those suckers if they try to mess with us.”

Fitz’s heart is still hammering in his chest. He’s stuck, yo-yoing between believing things could be easier from now on and being certain they can only get worse.

“No matter what happens, we’ll make it,” says Mack. “You know that, right? We can get through anything.”

And Mack takes Fitz’s hand where it rests on the bed, interlacing their fingers.

Fitz’s breath catches in his throat. Mack’s hand is warm and big wrapped around his, his long fingers curling in towards Fitz’s palm. Heat runs up Fitz’s arm and spreads throughout his whole body, warming his toes and flushing his cheeks.

He pulls his arm in, squeezing Mack’s hand to his chest.

“Stay with me,” he says.

“Yeah, of course,” says Mack.

“No, I mean –“ Fitz’s heart is pounding faster than ever. He can’t find the words to explain.

“Fitz,” says Mack. “I like you. You’d have a hard time getting rid of me if you wanted to.”

“Oh,” says Fitz faintly. “I – I like you too.”

“Good,” says Mack with a smile in his voice, and ducks his head to kiss the nape of Fitz’s neck.

It’s the lightest of touches, but it sends a shiver racing through Fitz. He breathes in and squeezes Mack’s hand, and then, not knowing what to do, brings their hands up and kisses Mack’s fingers.

He feels Mack breathe a pleased sigh against the back of his neck, and then move in to kiss him again, lips soft. And then again, and again, kissing a trail up the side of Fitz’s neck. Fitz feels like his heart might burst at the tingly feeling of it, and at the way Mack kisses him, gently but firmly.

Mack presses a kiss behind his ear and then pulls back a little, and Fitz turns his head to look up at him.

The sun is just setting outside, and Mack’s eyes are a rich brown in the warm light, dark and steady and gorgeous. He’s smiling just a little as he looks down at Fitz, and there’s a moment where they just look at each other, Fitz’s heart swooping wildly in his chest.

This is actually happening. Mack’s here with him, and he wants to be with him, and they’re going to do this together.

Then Mack leans in and kisses him.

It’s slow and gentle and perfect, just Mack’s lips pressed against his. It makes Fitz’s body thrum with a heady mix of peace and excitement, of love and desire, like nothing he’s ever felt before.

Mack’s leaning on one elbow, and he brings his other hand up to touch Fitz’s face, curling gently around the edge of his jaw and stroking the side of his cheek. Fitz shivers pleasantly under Mack’s touch.

Fitz has thought about kissing Mack so many times since they met, but the reality of it is even better. Their mouths meet and shift and pull apart and then meet again, slow, like they have all the time in the world.

Fitz likes that thought, the idea of lying here forever, warm in the curl of Mack’s body, feeling each delicious press of Mack’s lips.

But there’s an urgency building inside him, too. Each kiss sparks a wave of desire, speeding his heart and buzzing his veins. He wants more. He wants Mack.

The next time Mack pulls back a little, Fitz follows, leaning up to kiss him hard. Mack responds immediately, pressing Fitz back down against the pillow, and Fitz lets his mouth fall open, and their tongues meet.

Fitz is overwhelmed at the feeling of Mack’s tongue against his, hot and wet and strong. Mack is still moving slowly and deliberately, but there’s an edge to it, to the way he holds tight to Fitz as his tongue pushes into his mouth. 

Fitz can’t get enough. He pushes up hard against Mack, tongue sliding against Mack’s by instinct, by the primal desire to feel every part of Mack. They slip into a rhythm, a give and take of pressure, and Fitz feels it through his whole body, in his pounding heartbeat.

This is everything he’s ever wanted, he thinks. Except then Mack moves his hand, down off Fitz’s face to run flat down Fitz’s chest, following the twist of his body until his hand’s on Fitz’s stomach, pulling him in even tighter into the curl of Mack’s body. And Fitz has to turn away from the kiss, gasping at how much he wants Mack’s hand lower still.

“Warm enough yet, Turbo?” asks Mack, with his hand resting flat on Fitz’s lower stomach, tantalizingly close to the waistband of Fitz’s boxers.

“Yes – I mean, no –“

“Well, which is it?” says Mack, voice low. “Because I want to see just how warm I can get you.”

“Yeah,” gasps Fitz. “I – I want that too.”

And then his voice stops working, because Mack finally moves his hand, but not down – he slides it up, under Fitz’s t-shirt. His hand is very warm and just a little rough, and he runs it slowly along Fitz’s chest. Fitz shudders, heart pounding like it could escape his ribs.

Mack leans over and catches his mouth again, and they’re kissing, hot and hard. Fitz falls into it, the overwhelming sum of it: the slick rhythm of their tongues, and the warm pressure of Mack’s hand on his chest, and the encompassing feeling of Mack’s chest and stomach and legs pressed close.

And then Mack rubs his thumb across Fitz’s nipple, hard enough to send a spark shooting down through Fitz’s body, and Fitz moans into Mack’s mouth before he can stop himself. His hips move of their own accord, rolling back to press himself against Mack. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” breathes Mack, and does it again, catching Fitz’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Fitz bites his lip as the shudder rolls through him, arcing his chest off the bed and then grinding him back against Mack.

Mack keeps going, and Fitz’s world narrows to the sparks that run through him at every rough touch. Finally Mack breathes out a long shaky breath and moves his hand. Fitz hears himself make a little whiny noise, doesn’t even care because he really, really liked Mack’s hand there.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Mack tells him, low, and he grips Fitz’s hips and moves him. Moves both of them, readjusting so that Fitz fits snugly into the sideways L of his lap. Their knees don’t fit together and Fitz’s head is level with Mack’s chest now, but none of that matters, because Mack’s body is so so close, and Mack is hard against Fitz’s ass.

The thought is breathtaking, makes Fitz’s head spin and his own cock pulse with need. His fantasies never got this far. He would have thought he’d be nervous, awkward, but this is Mack. All he can feel is excitement, and love, and desperate, toe-curling desire.

Mack’s chin is against the top of his head now. “Fitz, baby, you all right?”

Fitz breathes out something that he hopes is a “Yeah,” and pushes back against Mack, every part of him focused on how Mack’s cock feels against him, even through their clothes.

Which – they shouldn’t have clothes, thinks Fitz. His stomach does a little flip with the anticipation of feeling Mack against him, skin-to-skin, all hot and smooth, and he lets out a gasp and pushes down his boxers, wriggling as he tries to get them past his hips.

Mack’s hand is his hip, warm against his bare skin. “Fitz –“

“Mack, come on –“

Mack’s hand slides down and wraps around him.

Fitz pushes his face into the pillow, mouth open, and pushes his hips forward into Mack’s hand. It’s perfect, Mack squeezing him warm and just a little rough, stroking him firm and slow. Fitz’s whole body is shaking and every instant that Mack is touching him sends a shock of heat to coil in his stomach. Already the tension is unbearably strong, like it might be too much at any moment.

He makes a helpless noise, something high and broken. And Mack’s hand comes to a halt, which isn’t what Fitz wants, except Mack’s saying, “Okay, hang on, baby, hang on,” so Fitz does, even when Mack shifts away entirely.

It only takes a moment for Mack to push down his pants, but instead of curling back up around Fitz, he takes Fitz by the waist and pulls him so that Fitz ends up flat on his back, surprised, looking up at Mack.

And oh, Mack’s eyes. They’re wide and dark, not wild like Fitz feels right now but _intense_ instead. Like Fitz is the only thing in the world. Fitz stares up into them, heart thudding against his ribs, body thrumming with need, and then Mack kisses him again.

It’s slow and deep, Mack’s tongue sliding against the length of Fitz’s. Fitz can’t stand slow right now. He sucks hard on Mack’s tongue and reaches up to grab Mack’s arms, tries to shift his body closer.

Mack groans low into Fitz’s mouth and moves, lining himself up on top of Fitz. He’s everywhere, everything, the weight of him pressing Fitz into the mattress, and Fitz loves it. They’re still kissing, deep and messy, and Fitz’s cock is against Mack’s stomach. Mack’s shirt has ridden up enough that Fitz is pressed against bare skin, hot and firm with muscle. Fitz’s hips twitch up, and he gasps helplessly at the feeling.

At that, Mack pulls away from the kiss, panting, and shifts further up. He rocks his hips against Fitz’s, and _there_. Mack’s cock presses against Fitz’s, and Fitz can’t breathe at the feeling, the silky skin sliding against him, hotter still than the rest of Mack.

It’s earth-shattering each time Mack rolls his hips, pushing Fitz hard into the bed and dragging their cocks together, perfect friction. Fitz is moaning against Mack’s shoulder, and Mack’s talking, a low continuous rumble: “Oh, yeah, sweetheart, that’s it, yeah, Fitz, baby, Turbo, that’s it, just –“

Fitz can’t do anything but hold on to Mack and push helplessly up, and he can’t think of anything but the feeling of Mack against him and the tension building unbearably inside him, like a bomb that could go off at any moment, and –

Mack breaks off into a wordless groan and gets a hand between them, curls it around both their cocks and squeezes as they both keep moving, thrusting together into Mack’s grip, and Fitz doesn’t even get a chance to process it before he’s over the edge, coming so hard he sees stars, gripping Mack’s arms tight as pleasure explodes through him.

And Mack catches his breath and holds it as he comes all over Fitz’s stomach, cock pulsing against Fitz’s.

Afterward, Mack collapses to the side, still half spread over Fitz. Fitz lies there, eyes closed, waves of tingling heat crashing over him for a long time. Gradually, his heart rate slows and he catches his breath.

He opens his eyes and looks at Mack, who smiles at him. “Hot enough for you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” laughs Fitz.

He never wants to forget how he feels in this moment, warm and safe and happy, tired in a delicious way, heart soaring as he looks into Mack’s eyes.

***

Fitz wakes at dawn like he always does, but for once wakefulness creeps over him slowly. He slips gradually from the warmth of his dream into the warmth of Mack’s arms around him.

He opens his eyes. He doesn’t think the sun is fully up, but the light from the windows is bright and cool. The air on his face feels nice compared to the heat of being under the blankets and wrapped up in Mack.

Fitz slips out from under Mack’s arm and goes to the window. Outside, the world is still and silent under a layer of freshly fallen snow.

It’s beautiful.

It’s a welcome surprise. Fitz hopes the snow will make things easier with the zombies, but even if not, he can’t help but be excited about it. Grinning, Fitz turns around to tell Mack.

But Mack is still asleep, shifting the covers with every deep breath. His face looks absolutely calm, brow unwrinkled, mouth parted just a little.

Fitz should probably be used to the feeling he gets when he looks at Mack by now. Like something hot wrapped up tight inside his chest, making his blood tingle through his body with each warm pump of his heart. It hits him suddenly enough to catch him off guard, make him feel breathless and lightheaded.

It’s not just that Mack is gorgeous, although he is. It’s not just that Mack has saved Fitz’s life many times, although he has. It’s that Mack is patient, and kind, and brilliant, and funny, and when he looks at Fitz, Fitz knows he can do anything.

Fitz turns back to the window. He’ll let Mack sleep for now, and when he wakes up, Fitz will tell him everything.

He’ll tell him about Simmons, and Ward. He’ll tell Mack that he doesn’t know if all of SHIELD has been betrayed, and he doesn’t know what they’ll find at the Triskelion – safety, or a trap, or maybe just more zombies.

Fitz looks out at the snowy world, like a painting done with clean, even strokes. He’ll tell Mack that he doesn’t know exactly what will happen to them, but that he does know, with a deep warm certainty he hasn’t felt in a long time, that they can handle it together.


End file.
